


Snow White and Sleeping Beauty

by Voltwrong



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Angst, Angst with a Happy Ending, Case Fic, Castiel Whump, Deans in denial, First Kiss, Hurt/Comfort, Kinda..., M/M, Pining, Rejection, Tropes out tha wazoo, True Love's Kiss, Whump, Witches
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-05-27
Updated: 2016-05-27
Packaged: 2018-07-10 11:54:25
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 594
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6984016
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Voltwrong/pseuds/Voltwrong
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Castiel is hit with a spell that puts him in a death like sleep by a witch that loves irony. The only cure? True love's kiss. Now if Dean can only pull his head out of his ass long enough to figure out it's him.</p>
<p>Or: a super tropey case fic that maybe isn't as fluffy as it sounds.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Snow White and Sleeping Beauty

**Author's Note:**

> Unbeta'd and written at two am. Please point out any mistakes and suggestions on my writing are very much welcome!

###  **Prologue**

The witch's eyes flash blue when she opens them, the light slowly fading away as a delighted grin breaks across her face.  
  
"Oh, that's _pathetic_ ," she coos, her hands an iron vice around either side of Castiel's face. He shakes his head, trying to dislodge her thumbs from where they are rooted in his temples.  
" Get. Out," he growls. His knees buckle beneath him.  
  
"Cas?!" The door to the warehouse slams open, a frantic voice calling out into the empty space. The source of the voice was unseen, but Castiel would know that voice anywhere. Awake, In sleep; hell, probably in death.  
  
Springy, course hair whacks Castiel in the face as the witch's head whips around. She growls low in her throat, sounding more intrigued then afraid. She should be afraid. Two pairs of boots pound through the outer rooms of the building, and every now and then a beam of light is thrown through one of the small windows high up on the walls of the dank, cavernous room he and the witch occupy.  
  
The witch looks back at him, half her face concealed by that corkscrew mess of hair. One gleaming, citrine eye assesses him, stark against her dark features.  
  
"He always comes back for you, doesn't he?" She says thoughtfully.  
  
A second voice echoes through the darkness "Castiel?!"  
  
Castiel can only see the one eye, but assumes the witch rolls both. "Sorry, _they_ always come back for you. No wonder you can't let go. He keeps on giving you hope, you poor creature." She doesn't really sound too sympathetic.  
  
All Castiel can hear now are the footsteps and his own breathing, ripping itself from his chest in pants. His own hands are wrapped around her wrists desperatey but somehow, impossibly, she is stronger than him. If only he were at full power, she would be a pile of dust at his knees. Would have been the moment she tried to look into his mind.  
  
But he's not at full power. No where close to it, actually- practically human.  
  
At some point he ended up on the ground but the witch simply fell with him, and here they sit, on their knees, facing each other. Her hands on his face, his wrapped around her wrists. What they must look like to an outsider.  
  
Something hard hits the door, sealed with magic. A sharp _shit_ can be heard from the other side and Dean throws himself against it again, the sound of his body hitting metal resonating around them.  
  
"I have," the witch whispers low in Castiel's ear, "a parting gift for you." Pulling away to look at him, her smile is almost fond. The pounding continues, the door groaning against the weight. "But I haven't got much time. So, sorry if I overstep a few boundaries."  
  
Suddenly, there are lips against his own, cold and hard as if her heart no longer beats. He gasps but those hands are still there, holding him in place. She has latched on to him, biting his bottom lip as icy saliva burns him where it leaks into his own mouth. The door give one last, pathetic moan and slams against the wall and the witch is gone.  
  
" Cas!" Castiel can see Dean running toward him, flashlight abandoned, arms and legs pumping hard to propel him across the seemingly endless concrete room. There may as well be an ocean between them. Cas lifts his head and wobbles; blood lands in dark spatters across his hand, dripping from his mouth. Dean runs harder. Everything goes black.

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you!!! And seriously, if you have _any_ suggestions on my writing feels free to comment them, I won't be offended! (Unless they're just blatantly rude...)


End file.
